


In a Crowd of Thousands

by ChiiTako



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Claude is mentionned, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Nightmares, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 00:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20331145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiiTako/pseuds/ChiiTako
Summary: Self-indulgent Dimileth adaptation of a scene from Anastasia the Musical.Byleth Eisner and Claude Von Riegan, con-artists in Enbarr hear of the story of the lost Prince of Faerghus and of the Duke Fraldarius offering a reward for his return. They find a one-eyed amnesiac worker in the street looking strikingly like him who wants to escape the Empire and they drag him in a scheme to get the reward from the Duke. But during their journey, memories come back and romance blossom.





	In a Crowd of Thousands

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is the first fic in English I publish, so I hope it's not too bad! I've been beta'd by a friend who doesn't like Fire Emblem and I can't thank her enough!!
> 
> So the idea came to me while I was listening to Anastasia The Musical and I found that this song would make a great Dimileth story, I hope you like it!

All he could see around him was fire and flames. Flames, smoke and corpses. People were screaming so loudly. And the stench of blood was filling his nose. It was sickening, he was scared, alone and the world was ending. Suddenly he saw his father, face down; a sword plunged into his chest, motionless. Glenn was here as well, not too far, his horse on top of his lifeless body. And his stepmother, crushed under the carriage, her hair, usually so neat and perfect, cascading on the ground mingled with a river of blood. Everyone around him was dead, and he knew he should have moved and left before it was his turn. But they were all watching him, with their dead and accusing eyes.

“Dimitri…” His father was, of course, the first to speak; his deep and regal voice almost covering the deafening sound of the battle still taking place around them. 

“Remember us… Avenge us…” Glenn continued his voice as steady as it had been in his lifetime, but his body as immobile as it was supposed to be in death.

“Kill them all Dimitri…”

The soft voice of his stepmother carried on; she had that motherly tone which implied if he wasn’t obeying she would be really disappointed in him. And he was overwhelmed, he had no idea what to do and their voices were echoing in his skull, “avenge us…kill them all…remember us…” again and again. Until it stopped and a more familiar voice called his name.

"Mitya, Mitya are you alright? I heard you scream." 

The voices and the ghosts vanish as soon as he opens his eye, jerking awake. His memory, as well as their pleas, fades with them. He is back in his inn chamber in Fhirdiad, Byleth is sitting on the edge of his bed, her face in a worried grimace, one of her hands on his shoulder. He is sweating and trembling, sitting doesn't help much but it makes Byleth scoot closer to him. She has moved her hand from his shoulder to his face and is now removing the hair plastered by sweat while whispering gently that he is okay, he is safe, that it was just a nightmare. And he let himself be comforted by her words, and the anguish starts to leave, as if it was really only a nightmare and that he didn't have something tugging into his heart telling him everything he saw was real. 

"Why can't I remember Byleth? This nightmare, I know it is important! But I never remember anything when I wake up."

He is trembling, angry with his mind that won't let him know what happened to his family and who he is. Everything tells him that he should know why whenever he has this nightmare he is filled with a chilly dread when he wakes up and yet... As an attempt to draw his thoughts to something else, Byleth starts speaking of the encounter they'll have with Lord Rodrigue the next day. Which is not really helping as he is still unsure about whether he is the lost Prince. 

"You'll see, as soon as he sees you he'll know you are Dimitri!" she's saying it so confidently that for a split second his doubts vanish and he is persuaded that it is true; and not just part of a scheme she and Claude have woven to escape the Empire. 

"How can you be so sure?" he asks, a point of hope in his voice that he tries to hide as best as he can; but he is sure she has picked up. Her face softens, he never has seen her so expressive since the beginning of their endeavour. He wonders if it's because it is the middle of the night and she isn't awake enough to keep her emotions in check or if it's because they have grown closer than he thought and that she allows herself to be open with him now. 

"Because I met him." 

"You met Lord Rodrigue? And you didn't tell me? How was it?" 

"No, not Lord Rodrigue. The Prince." 

A soft "oh" escapes his mouth and she smiles, it is a rare sight. He is curious to know more now and pushes her to explain and tell him the story. He finds her more than willing to reminisce as she sits cross-legged to face him. 

"I already told you my father was a mercenary right? Well, it was the Garland moon and we were in Fhirdiad for a job. I was ten. And there was a parade, the whole royal family was there. The Prince was there."

He can picture it well, he has seen such displays in the Empire, and he knows that the Kingdom's royal family would have conducted similar ones. Byleth has closed her eyes, probably to conjure the memory more easily. 

"The crowd was dense. I don't think I've ever seen as many people than on that day, but all I could see was the Prince. He was only eight at the time, but the poise he had! He was so proud and serene on his horse, as sure as if he was the King. Everyone cheered as I kept staring at him."

The picture in Mitya's head is more and more vivid, he can hear the crowd cheering and feel the heat of the day. The steady rhythm of the horse following the procession. 

"Then I started to run, through the wild crowd and the guards, calling out his name. I reached with my hand," a small laugh escapes her lips as she remembers her foolishness but soon enough she has her wistful look back and he sees her open her eyes again. Her gaze plunging deep in his eye. "But when I looked up, he smiled." and as if she has prompted him, he smiles at her. 

"Then the parade travelled on and he was gone, leaving only the sun behind him. But if I were still ten… Even in a crowd of thousands, I'd find him again." 

"You're making me feel like I was there too." 

"Maybe you were! Make it part of your story!" the ex-mercenary takes his hand eagerly in hers, he can see nothing but support in her eyes and so he caves in. He isn't sure it would help him remember if he really is Prince Dimitri but it feels right to humour her.

"A parade, passing by… It was hot, there was not a cloud in the sky." Byleth is encouraging him, she seems so happy that he is trying. He relaxes and goes along with the story. "And in that crowd of thousands, a girl caught my eyes. She had a mercenary garb, too big for her and not too clean." she stifles a laugh and jabs him in the arm as a weak protest, he almost says something when she removes her hand from his to do it but decides against it. "She dodged in between the guards and the crowd, she made herself seen. And she was the only one I saw. Then, she called out my name and started to run against the crowd, under the scorching sun. And I really tried not to smile, I swear I did. But I smiled." 

Suddenly without knowing exactly why, he knows what has happened after that smile. The event is so vivid in his mind that it seems preposterous that he ever had forgotten. He reaches for her hands and as he lifts it to his lips he continues the story. 

"And then, she bowed…"

At the revelation, Byleth gasps and almost backs away with surprise, her face is difficult to read but it seems to be a strange mix of surprise, relief and adoration. 

"I...I didn't tell you that!" 

“You didn’t have to, I remember!”

The happiness mingled with surprise is clear in his voice, but he does not care at all. Because he remembers something of his past. And how he does remember, the small girl and her bright smile, using the tunic she was wearing as if it was a dress, bowing in a clumsy way no aristocrat would. The sun reflecting her navy hair and adding a twinkle in her eyes. How he had told his father excitedly as soon as the parade had ended. This is clearly the proof that all this time Byleth and Claude were right; he is the lost Prince. He intertwines their fingers together, she is gazing at him and he at her, they are close. He had not realised before how close they are. He can feel her breath on his lips, and he holds his own until he starts talking.

“And I knew even then, in a crowd of thousands I’d find you again…” she leans towards him, whispering back the words. And as he waits for their lips to meet he sees her stop, and her brows knit. She removes her hands from his and he mourns the loss of warmth, and when she gets up from his bed hastily he is the one whose brows knit, as he doesn’t understand why she is acting so suddenly as if she shouldn’t approach him. She bows, he can’t help but notice that it is more polished than when she was a child, and he sees the sadness in her eyes.

“Your Highness…”

And that is when it dawns on him. He is the lost Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd; not Mitya the random worker they found on the street. They are not supposed to get close. He has a duty to fulfil, he has to get back to Lord Rodrigue, ascend the throne of Fahergus and fight back the Empire. He cannot let everything go for the love of one mercenary girl. So, when she leaves his room after her bow, he doesn’t say anything; he does not follow her. He needs to make choices and he knows that his fellow countrymen are more important than his own happiness.


End file.
